In the Belly of the Beast (temp.)
by Misty3
Summary: Character death...only *twisted* :)


Okay, this is just a minor treatment of what looks to be a much larger piece...that is, if you like it. I'll gladly accept any feedback or ideas, just write a review and let me know!  
  
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Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, and Marvel would *never* do something like this. At least, I don't think so. Hmm…. This was inspired partially by watching the silent film 'Nosferato' in a room full of college honor students. Don't ask.  
  
Summary: Character death, only...twisted. evil grin  
  
In the Belly of the Beast  
By Misty  
  
A gentle breeze blew through the elm trees, making the branches whisper of secrets that only the wind knew. Dry leaves were shaken from their boughs and drifted onto the shoulders of those standing under it. They settled on the ground with the rasp of quiet death.  
  
Ororo reached forward and gently lifted a leaf from the top of the stone marker. Her fingers skimmed the cold marble and her heart shivered. There were no names or dates carved into the smooth surface, only an infinitely black epitaph. *In death, the beasts that haunt us in life are soothed. May his weary soul find peace at last.* She remembered the day they had decided that those words would grace this tombstone. They still burned in her chest when she read them, threatening to overwhelm her. She twined the leaf in her cold hands, crumbling the edges into nothingness.  
  
"We have come here, on the anniversary of his death, to pay tribute to a man that has had an untold influence on our lives." Her voice was steady as she looked at the gathered people next to her, a far cry from her inner pain. "To the newer members of our extended family, his grave has become a sort of monument to why we do what we do in this life, a memorial for what we choose willingly to risk every moment of our lives, for simply *being* alive. They do not fully understand the words written there, and yet they still carry the echoes of the Dream. To those of us who knew this man, it means that and far, far more. He had lived through more horrors than any should ever be forced to. He raged day and night with his own tortured mind, fearing what would happen if he simply gave in and accepted what seemed to be his destiny." She smiled sadly. "He truly was a hero, although he would have been the first to walk from the room if he was mentioned as such." Her lips trembled as she continued on. "He was a great man, and deserved to be honored as one. He willingly sacrificed his life to save ours. He was a great *man*… something he aspired daily to be. He had already achieved what he so longed for, but he, all of us really, never realized it until it was too late…" She wiped her misting eyes with the back of her hand. "Would any of you care to say anything?"  
  
Kurt stepped forward and gazed into the marble surface for a moment. He then looked up and breathed deeply, steadying himself. "I cannot put my thoughts into words as eloquently as you Wind Rider, but I will try nonetheless. He asked me once what I thought happened to us when we die. I told him my thoughts, and he seemed very disturbed. He said that he hoped that whatever happened after we move on, he didn't want to remember what he did in this life. I'll never forget it. He said 'some things are best forgotten…'"  
  
Kurt's eulogy went on but Ororo found her thoughts drifting. She tried to focus, but something kept pulling at her mind, as if there was something she *should* be seeing. She scanned the grounds with her mind, pulling in the weather currents as if they were thoughts. Nothing, and yet the feeling still persisted. A tremendous pressure began behind her eyes and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. If she only tried a little harder…  
  
A hand rested on her arm. "Storm, sugah?" a molasses drawl to her left asked. "Are ya all raght? Yer shakin' honey." She was dimly aware that Kurt had stopped speaking and was now looking at her.  
  
Ororo felt herself answer as if from far away. "I do not know Rogue. There is something wrong with the earth here but I…I cannot find it! Something…"  
  
Whispers rumbled through the tiny crowd and Hank stepped closer to her, taking her hand. "What sort of a disturbance? Try focusing harder, my dear."   
  
"I…I cannot! It's too close. Can't any of you *feel* it?"  
  
"I'm afraid that none of us have your affinity for-"  
  
"*Look!* The leaves!"  
  
Ororo looked at the ground where Kurt pointed to see the leaves that had fallen shaking slightly, crinkling as they were moved. A muted rumble registered in her hearing, and the ground began to tremble ever so slightly.   
  
The others backed slowly away from the grave as little rivulets of earth began to flow from tiny cracks in the ground. The rumbling grew louder, joined by an even lower grumble. The stone fell over with a dull thwack, sending plumes of loose dirt into the air, clouding Ororo's vision.   
  
The feeling of *wrongness* grew in her mind until she thought she would burst.  
  
The grumbling noise exploded into a roar as six sharp bones broke through the ground in front of the tomb, followed closely by what had once been a man. His skin was a mottled green, and scraps of clothing hung from his body in ragged strips. His eyes were caked shut with blood spilled ages ago. The stitches in his neck ripped open and rancid dirt spilled from his mouth and she realized the grumbling noise had been his earth-filled screams.  
  
The man collapsed onto his chest, half of him still buried in his own grave. His shrieks quieted as his ravaged voice failed him, drenching them in sudden silence.  
  
"Oh, goddess," Ororo whispered. "Logan."  
  
Jubilee screamed with the power of a banshee, eyes horrified at the living nightmare before her. After she fainted, the only movement in the clearing was the crackling of leaves and the tiny puffs of dirt pluming from the corpse's nose as he breathed.  
  
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To Be Continued... 


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